


Dog Days

by AriesAscending



Series: Monster Summer Mash [9]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, But you're not sure if that's okay, Doggo's chill, Dogs, Dogs walking Dogs, F/M, Gen, Hinted/Implied Racism, M/M, Multi, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is a hug dog person, Reader is accidentally racist, Reader is awkward, Sort Of, You and Doggo get coffee like nerds, You don't mean anything by it tho, You want to Pet the Dog, You're just trying to walk your dog in peace dang it, monster racism, reader's gender is ambiguous, stutters everywhere, you have a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesAscending/pseuds/AriesAscending
Summary: Your beloved dog gets you in a bit of a pickle. You develop a serious case of Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome, but luckily, he doesn't seem too mad.(is it wrong to pet a monster dog?)





	Dog Days

You’ve always been a huge dog person. You just love dogs so much! They’re like people, except easy to interact with and so many different personalities and appearances. They’re always so fluffy and friendly and playful and cute. You love big ones, and small ones, and even the most aggressive ones that tried to scratch you earned your love. You just  _ really liked dogs.  _

So of course when you moved out your first step into adulthood was to purchase a dog. You’d visited tons of shelters and pounds, seen so many adorable little critters that begged for your attention, but none of them were quite right.

That is, until you found Brutus: a giant, fluffy black mutt who was sweet as could be. 

Already rather old when you found him-at least six-Brutus had been through several homes, simply because his owners couldn’t handle his massive size and exercise requirements. He was also typically very excitable and loud, but according to the handlers at the shelter you found him in, he’d been rather down by the time you found him.

All it’d taken was one meeting to know he was the one. You adopted him that day, and brought him home within three hours. He’s lived with you ever since then, and between your daily excursions to the park and unending shower of love from you, he’s perked up quite a bit.

He’s even almost a little bit of a nuisance at this point, really. His favorite activity is dragging you seven blocks down to the park on a hot summer day just to find other dogs to play with. By the time you get even remotely close, your arm is aching with how hard he’s tugging on it, and you’re sufficiently covered in sweat, despite leaving the house in a tank top and shorts. You groan, using the free hand that’d been shading your eyes from the relentless summer sun to retrieve a tattered rag from your back pocket; wiping up the sweat makes you feel minutely less grungy and gross, which you suppose will have to do until you head back home to take a shower.

Brutus tugs you into the park. You don’t even bother protesting at this point, just stumbling over your feet in an attempt to keep up with him without landing on your face. Brutus starts barking his head off, a clear sign he’s caught sight of another dog and wants to play. The leash burns your palm painfully as he starts running, and despite your best efforts, he breaks free as the pain becomes too much.

He makes a beeline for a figure in the distance as soon as he’s free, and your demands for him to come back are drowned by his braying barks. You groan, picking up speed despite the discomfort in your lungs and legs. It isn’t until he seems to tackle the figure that you really start running. The last thing you need is your monster dog attacking someone in a park!

You can’t see whoever he’s knocked over from his bulk, but you can tell they’re struggling to get him off. Absolutely mortified, you quickly work to pull him from the helpless bystander, blurting, “I am so, so sorry, I swear he’s not normally like this, he’s actually a super sweet dog, he loves people, I have no clue why he’s- ohhhhh my stars I really hope you’re okay holy crap-”

It’s an incredible struggle to get Brutus to calm down enough for you to pry him away, but you finally manage, sliding an arm around his neck and jerking him backwards. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, dogs can be so stupid sometimes, y’know?” You give a breathless, exasperated laugh, pulling the furry menace off the poor soul he’d attacked-and your laughter instantly dies on your tongue.

The poor soul he’d attacked is a white dog monster. They’ve got black, mask-like markings over their narrow amber eyes and sharp ears, and they’re wearing a thick, spiked black collar. They’re wearing a bright pink tank top with a perky pup’s face on it, and tan cargo pants with black dots. None of it matches-and it certainly doesn’t fit the somewhat menacing look they’ve got on their face as they stare up at you, or their weirdly buff build, and yet somehow they manage to pull it off.

You can feel yourself growing paler by the second, so you rush to rectify this atrocious first impression. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know you were a-” Is it insulting to call them a dog? It’s probably insulting. “-A monster, I totally didn’t see you, and I didn’t mean that, um, d… dog  _ monsters  _ were stupid, just regular dogs, you know, like surface dogs? Human pet dogs?” Crap, did they find it offensive you called a dog a pet? “Not! Not that you-  _ you guys _ \- your people-”

Can somebody please just kill you so you can stop putting your foot so deep down your throat? Can you please just wither up and die? Your face and ears are so hot you feel like your head might explode, and you have no clue what you’re saying anymore, just babbling and hoping that it might turn out okay.

Finally, the dog-  _ monster- _ the  _ monster  _ sits up a little, cutting off your rambling. Your jaw snaps shut with an audible click as you watch them, wide eyed, waiting to be yelled at or sneered at for letting the dog get loose and then insulting their whole race.

Surprisingly, it never comes. The monster just looks at the wriggling, panting mutt in your arms, rubbing their face with their arm to get rid of the saliva. That spurs you into action, and you rush to grab the rag you’d been using to wipe the sweat off to them. It’s gross and probably smells terrible, but it’s better than having dog breath in your face. “H… Here! I’m sorry it’s so, you know, um, gross, but it’s, I mean, it’s still pretty clean, and um… you’ve got… stuff… all over your-” Don’t say muzzle,  _ do not say muzzle-  _ “Your face. All over your face.”

“Thanks,” they mumble, tracking your motions as they reach out to accept it. The dog in your arms keep jostling you, but they manage to grab it pretty easily. Their voice is a bit deeper than you expected, and sort of raspy, like a smoker’s voice. 

“Consider it, you know, my apology for letting Brutus here slobber all over you and then insulting you,” you reply weakly, finally struggling to clip his leash back on. “He’s, um, he’s usually a very good dog, he just, um, gets excited when he sees other…” You trail off, realizing what you’d been about to say and cringe, looking away. “Um, wow, I’m sorry, I’m not really, uh, making this any… any better…”

Surprisingly, they give a little chuckle. It’s a nice, light sound, and without mockery, which makes you relax. They seem genuinely amused as they peer up at you. “S’alright. We get it a lot. And it’s not like I’m not a dog, y’know. I’m just a bit smarter than your average pup.” They finish this statement by patting Brutus’ head, earning them an excited yip and more wriggling. 

They really don’t seem that angry, thankfully. You’re incredibly relieved they aren’t offended, and you know you can call them a dog. You still feel bad, however, and you think you sort of owe them for being so chill about the whole situation. Biting your lip, you hold out one hand, the other keeping a firm grip on Brutus. “Um, do you think- I mean, could I… Would you, um, maybe, like to get a drink? With me? As an apology for Brutus and all that? I, um, I know you said it’s, like, no big deal or whatever, but um, I still feel like I should… Should say sorry, you know?”

They snort softly, but take your hand and let you help them up anyways. They’re… taller than you thought they would be, honestly, but not much taller than you. “Y’already apologized, but… sure. Why not. Could go for a drink right about now.” For a moment they squint at you again, like they’re having trouble seeing you, but when you shift uncomfortably the look eases. “Lead the way, human.”

You give them a weary grin, giving them your name as you exit the park. You learn their-his-name is Doggo, and try as you might, you giggle a little bit at that. Thankfully, he seems more amused by this than anything. Doggo is a little gruff and not very talkative, so the walk there is pretty quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. You also learn that he can only see things that move when you get up to a crosswalk and he panics a little looking for you.

It’s… Certainly interesting, to interact with a dog monster while walking a dog, and you’re certainly getting some weird looks from people, but that could be anything. Maybe they’re judging you for being with a monster, or for walking a dog, or because you look like a mess, or maybe all of the above. Who knows. You don’t really care, oddly enough, too busy learning about your companion.

The coffee shop you stop at is cozy and cool, and-you double check this-open to everyone, be they monster, human, or animal. You have to help Doggo order, but after that you simply sit down together and talk for a long while. After a few hours-you can’t believe you actually spent so much time talking, wow-you exchange numbers and part ways, deciding to meet again soon. Without Brutus, this time.

As you’re walking home, you come across another crosswalk, and Brutus turns to give you an almost smug look. You scowl at him playfully, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “Yeah, yeah, so you let me meet a cool new friend. I’m still mad at you for attacking him, you hear?”

Brutus huffs, turning away, and you roll your eyes. You scratch him idly until the light changes, watching his tail wag when you hit the right spot thoughtfully.

...Would it be rude to try and pet Doggo? Probably. Not like you were gonna ask him.

  
  
  
  
  
_(Yet.)_


End file.
